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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22921657">You Are Bigger Than Life</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wewillalwaysenduphere/pseuds/wewillalwaysenduphere'>wewillalwaysenduphere</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Gen, Hell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:48:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22921657</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wewillalwaysenduphere/pseuds/wewillalwaysenduphere</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt: Prompt: After Sam dies at Cold Oak he wakes up in Hell. With the help of some of the other “Azazel’s kids” he resurrects himself (and them) and together they take down Azazel and Sam takes the throne. Your choice which of the psychic kids (if any) stay on Azazel’s side.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lucifer/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You Are Bigger Than Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For our Boyking Sam server :)<br/>Prompt: Prompt: After Sam dies at Cold Oak he wakes up in Hell. With the help of some of the other “Azazel’s kids” he resurrects himself (and them) and together they take down Azazel and Sam takes the throne. Your choice which of the psychic kids (if any) stay on Azazel’s side.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When the knife sank into his back, the pain consumed Sam in a way it never had before. Dean was there, Dean was holding him, but his body was too numb to react to him.</p><p>He’d lost all feeling in his limbs, but he still felt. It was different – like whatever part of him that had survived the death of his body was light, and without any shape. A huge hand seemed to scoop him up, to cradle him gently in a wide palm. Sam would have smiled had he still the lips to do so. As it was, the faint shimmer of what was left of him became a little brighter for a moment.</p><p><em>Don’t worry</em> , he heard – no, he didn’t have ears to hear, he couldn’t hear – but something told him: <em>Don’t worry, I’ve got you, my prince. </em>But the voice sounded angelic. Beautiful. Nothing like Sam had ever heard before.</p><p>Sam’s soul shivered with elation at these words, spoken right into the center of his being.</p><p>
  <em>Let me take you home, my prince.</em>
</p><p>Sam’s soul shone a little brighter once again, and then they were moving, too fast for any human being to survive it, but Sam’s soul was held gently in huge hands. The vision of huge, white wings charred at the edges filled Sam’s mind.</p><p>They blasted through a black door wrought in iron, the runes painted all over it bursting into nothing. Sam felt their influence only for a moment, but it made him recoil.</p><p><em>You can choose which runes will guard Hell from now on</em>, the voice projected. Sam’s soul coiled around itself in delight.</p><p>When he was put down in the central circle of Hell – because he had always known where the journey would lead them – the giant hand that had held him so gently drew back. Sam tried to reach out to it, tried to hold on, but he was merely a soul. Merely a bright speck of energy shimmering red in Hell’s dancing flames.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, my one and only, I long for you, too. Only you can free me. I will be waiting.</em>
</p><p>Sam’s soul shivered one last time, sad to be left, but understanding.</p><p>
  <em>You will have to resurrected yourself, my prince. I cannot do it for you. </em>
</p><p>And with that, the loving presence was gone. The voice that sounded like the most delightful music had disappeared. Sam was sad, and he was angry, and most importantly, he needed to do what was asked of him. He needed to bring himself back – needed to do the impossible.</p><p>But Sam was no longer on earth, no longer bound by the weakness of the flesh. He was surrounded by hellfire and flames, by the screams of the sinners, the wails of the tainted. His soul started glowing ever brighter, and Sam started ripping the very fabric of hell apart. He tore out chunks of it and transformed them into bone, into organ, tissue, sinew and muscle. He assembled the unbreakable skin of Hell itself around him, and forced it to become his own skin.</p><p>Unbreakable, unkillable, immortal.</p><p>As he progressed, he felt his senses coming back – his sense of feeling first, when he was nothing but a beating heart, when he was nothing but blood vessels, lying on the floor of hell, when he was nothing but organs, resting on earth that should have scorched him.</p><p>When he was coating himself with muscle, when he was creating his own bones, when he finally, finally pulled skin across his raw flesh.</p><p>When he opened his eyes, he could see the demons waiting around him. They were kneeling. When his sense of smell registered, he could smell sulfur and sin. The air itself tasted arid. The cackling of the flames was the only sound to be heard.</p><p>The demons had brought four souls to him, held in wicker baskets for now – none of them had managed to resurrect themselves. But Sam had a feeling he might need them. He approached the first row of demons, and in unison, they raised the baskets so he could touch each soul.</p><p>Slowly, but much faster than Sam had, they started growing bodies once more. Not the kind of body that Sam had, though, made of the very fabric of Hell. Sam might look like he had in live to human eyes, but the demons saw destroyed landscapes when they looked at him, saw hellfire pulse where his heart should be.</p><p>Expectation hung in the air, but Sam did not speak until the other special children were back, kneeling before him.</p><p>“Ava.” His voice sounded different down here. Maybe it was because his vocal chords had been remade from a hellhound’s sinew.</p><p>“Yes, my lord?”</p><p>Her eyes were still human, but Sam could see the sharp intelligence he’d missed so far.</p><p>“You will be my right hand. And from now on, you will address me as your prince. And so will you.”</p><p>He looked out over the demons, many of whom looked down, shifting on their feet.</p><p>“Oh, I hear an objection coming. Out with it.”</p><p>Sam had spent too much time rebuilding himself to have any patience left. He had a throne to reclaim. A demon to kill. An angel – his angel – to free.</p><p>“We will call you anything you desire. But really, we should be calling you King. Only <em>He</em> has the right to call you anything less.”</p><p>Sam stepped up to the demon, static crackling in his hands. Reality down here was his to manipulate. It came as easy as breathing.</p><p>“He? Who? Azazel? He will not walk in Hell for much longer. I will rip him apart, atom for atom, until there is nothing left.”</p><p>The demon shook his head – or, he did the black smoke equivalent of shaking his head. For some reason, maybe because Sam himself had spent time in a form like that, he could read their body language now.</p><p>“Oh no, I am speaking of…<em>Him</em>. Our creator. Our God. He who brought you down to us.”</p><p>Sam held his breath for a moment. His angel. His savior. That beautiful, beautiful melodic voice.</p><p>“You mean…my angel.” Suddenly, Sam remembered the lore.</p><p>The angel of music, of all things. Sam gave a choked laugh.</p><p>The demons cowered even deeper when Sam called their God his angel.</p><p>“Yes, him. The Morning Star, the Lightbringer, the Son of Dawn.”</p><p>Sam could, for the first time since he’d created a body for himself once more, feel his soul shiver in pleasure as it had when those hands had carried him home.</p><p>But he stepped back, he cleared his throat made of hell and lifted his voice that sounded like charred metal compared to the one of his angel.</p><p>“Listen to me,” and all of them did, the feeling was heady, “I will destroy Azazel.”</p><p>Sam’s voice carried over the land, carried through the nine circles of hell, because it was made of hell. No demon, nowhere, not even Azazel could miss it.</p><p>“I will bring back your God, my Angel, he who fell from Heaven. And together, we will do as he has promised you long ago: <em>I will ascend to the heavens; I will raise my throne above the stars of God; I will sit enthroned on the mount of assembly, on the utmost heights of Mount Zaphon. I will ascend above the tops of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High.”</em></p><p>Sam turned around, focusing on the demons behind him.</p><p>“We will shake earth and make kingdoms tremble, we will make the world a wilderness, we will overthrow cities. All of you will serve us, you will kneel.”</p><p>One day, Sam knew, he’d have his angel back. He would. But until then…he’d have to make sure they obeyed him. Looking around, they seemed to ready to follow him. Excited to do so. Black smoke was moving in curls around him, demons worshipping, demons grateful for his words. But there were those, old generals, that were still skeptical. Sam could feel them. Better to make his expectations clear from the beginning.</p><p>“Because when I take back what’s mine…I will take no prisoners.”</p>
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